We're both wolves in sheep's clothing
by bebewrites
Summary: DISCONTINUED. Jason/Tim For most people, presenting your throat to such a fresh vampire was a terrible, if not *suicidal* idea, but it was different with Jason.
1. We're wounded together

**Author's notes: **takes place in an AU between a friend and I, where Tim is a freshly turned vampire, ending up in werewolf!Jason's care. Were!Jason was all her idea. These aren't all exactly in order, they're just ficlets from the same AU. If you want to read the very first, you're going to have to check her journal.

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He wasn't sure what hurt worse: the suffocating fear, the sense of abandonment, the feel of his own skin...cold to the touch, desperate to be warmed any way possible. No, it was the *hunger*. It never seemed to leave and it could never be sated. It was greedy and evil. The first few days after the turning, it was so painful that he cried for death-but he wasn't going to get it. Not just because in a sense he was already dead, something he was definitely more than aware of. No. Because he wasn't alone. He had his partner...his mate, his caretaker. Jason made sure Tim was well fed, always in control, always safe.

Compared to everything else in Tim's life currently, it was his only comfort.

The teen rolled over in bed as the thoughts dissipated and he stared at Jason in the dark, the man's eyes closed, hair messy with sleep, chest moving steadily...blood pumping. He could hear it, the way it moved through his veins. God, and Tim could feel that buildup in the back of his throat like thick bile till he was bearing fangs, tongue flicking out to touch them almost nervously. Jason had let him bite him...once. Tim could recall the taste-coppery and perfect on his tongue, driving him insane as the man touched him and whispered in his ear, telling him how everything would be okay, how he now *belonged*.

He whimpered in the silence of the bunker and at first he thought it was Jay making that strange sound, but no, it was himself in his hunger. The feeling choked him till he was carefully grabbing for one of his companion's hands, pulling it to his mouth to suck at the patch of skin between thumb and pointer finger, teeth barely digging into the flesh. He just needed a taste-

But he was disgusted with himself-what he was forced to become over the past few days...what Jason had to deal with. Tim almost dropped the man's hand in his sudden trembling, but instead laid it down gently between them on the warm bedsheets. Another noise that threatened to break out was muffled by Tim's quickness, biting it back. And Jason...was still asleep. The vampire took a deep breath, even though he didn't need it. It was all anticipation, the thump-thump of Jay's heart like music in his sensitive ears while he entwined their fingers.

"Jason," Tim whispered to the air, thinking that his partner was so deep in sleep he wouldn't hear a thing, until the man stirred. It was subtle, but the teen was so aware of *everything* these days that the movement didn't go unnoticed to him. His grip tightened on the hand and his body shifted, leaning down so his lips could brush against the skin of Jason's neck. The man's breath was fervid against him, a sign of him waking completely from sleep and holding in a yawn.

He didn't reply, but Tim knew those blue eyes were watching him in the dimness, knowing everything he needed. He became so focused on the pumping of blood that he was barely mindful of Jason moving to rest back against the headboard, pulling the small vamp into his lap. Familiar fingers brushed back the dark bangs hanging in his face, a thumb pushed against his lips to see the hint of fang while eyes stared into the dark ones that sharply contrasted the pale skin of Tim's face.

The man...smiled at him, faintly, but it was just enough with the cocking of his head. It was an offering. For most people, presenting your throat to such a fresh vampire was a terrible, if not *suicidal* idea, but it was different with Jason. He was a shifter and with his strength, and the bit of control Tim could always manage to retain during his hunger, it was easy enough to stop the teen.

But Tim still swallowed, shuddering with nervousness. A part of him was unsure what to think, what to *do*. The first and last time he had fed from a person's throat, he'd killed them, drained them...done worse. He attempted to pull away, but Jason only followed till they were falling back onto the mattress, the teen's small body trapped underneath his large one.

"It's alright, baby," he heard Jason coo.

Was it? Tim had trusted Jason since he first met him and this was...it shouldn't have been any different. But it was a step forward. Tim was losing willpower, whimpering and quietly begging for Jason to go to the fridge across the large room and get the bagged blood. But the man didn't move and all the boy could do after a moment was lean up and sink his fangs into flesh. This was release. This was everything he needed and more. No one's blood filled him like Jason's and no one's ever would. There was a certain charge to it, intense and blinding, setting Tim's being on fire.

But it was never good to have too much of a wonderful thing, so he disengaged himself from the man in a few more moments, licking his bloodstained lips and watching as the thick, dark liquid oozed from the puncture wounds. Jason didn't complain, no, he wiped a swatch of red from the corner of Tim's mouth, a bit his eager tongue had missed. No words needed to be exchanged, nothing besides soft smiles and the ducking of the teen's head in embarrassment as he realized just how good his life had turned out despite his own death.

He would never grow up, never grow old, but he would have Jason for centuries and wasn't that enough?


	2. No more 3x5s

He doubted he would ever see sunlight again, feel that natural, giving warmth upon his pale skin. Tim's life had changed so dramatically over a short period of time and something that was always so vital was ripped from him as quick as the snap of a neck. Emotions stirred in the boy, sadness and remorse...*anger*, until he was curling into a corner of Jason's apartment, avoiding a shaft of deadly light that came through the rough curtains of the living room window. He keened as he closed his eyes and pressed his face into his knees, reminding himself that the sun would set in less than three hours, the light would fade, then he would be free to watch. Watch his life pass him by like he would do for eternity.

It was a depressing thought, one that he felt couldn't be sobered. His entire world was falling apart around him; he couldn't face his family as the monster he was, he couldn't leave the house without Jason for fear he might lose control like he had the first time, he couldn't have friends, he couldn't...watch the sun set over Gotham before patrol. He was no longer that little red bird that flew so free, he was trapped in a cage he had never wanted or knew existed. Was this some sort of dramatic irony? Some un-divine doing? Life certainly wasn't fair and sometimes the answers weren't the ones you wanted, but the only ones you got.

Tim stood up after countless minutes passed and he danced around the sunlight, arriving at the wall on the other side of the room where he reached out, pulling a picture from the pin stuck in the plaster. A sunrise in technicolor. He stared so intently at it for what felt like hours...then suddenly began to tear it up with a blank look on his face. It was worthless to hold onto a stupid postcard, a part of the life he had when his heart was beating. Strange how he wanted to cry while the thick paper fell to the floor, but as much as he craved it, he couldn't. It was a gesture as insignificant as the torn up sunrise.

"Thought you would have done that sooner," came Jason's familiar baritone voice behind him, half full of amusement, half of heartache.

When Tim turned to look at him, he realized the room was completely dark except a lamp turned on in the far corner. The sun had set on them both. The vampire was safe physically, but emotionally the damage was already done. He knew his lover had recognized that by the way he moved in, wrapping warm arms around the small, cool body and pulling him in close. Fingers dragged through the teen's hair lovingly.

"It was a cheesy picture anyways. Probably photoshopped."

Jay was just trying to make him smile, but it wasn't working and he doubted anything could really make him feel better at the moment. Ever since the the change, Tim had moments of deep despair when his feelings got out of complete control and there was nothing he could do except wait it out. This felt like that and he absolutely hated it. He buried his head in Jason's chest and let out an exasperated sigh, hands fisting the material of his shirt under the heavy leather jacket.

The man smelled like the city life, its thumping pulse that Tim was desperate for at the moment, but he wanted the calmer daytime, the busyness, the cool wind Gotham had at this time of the year-

"You know you can't. ...And I can't let you hurt yourself like that," he said, and Tim finally cried-but he was right, the tears were as meaningless as the seventy-five cent postcard.


End file.
